


we were something, don't you think so?

by jajudeeds



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Hurt No Comfort, M/M, i feel like i should apologize but i wont, its just a short angsty one shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:40:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25525309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jajudeeds/pseuds/jajudeeds
Summary: "Persist and resist the temptation to ask you if one thing had been different, would everything be different, today?"
Relationships: Kang Younghyun | Young K/Yoon Dowoon
Comments: 9
Kudos: 44





	we were something, don't you think so?

_“And if my wishes came true, it would’ve been you.”_

The year is 2030, and Younghyun is wasted.

He doesn’t even remember the name of this bar he’s at, but all he knows right now is he’s _this_ close to throwing up, after chugging one shot after another, chasing away whatever shadows he has in his brain, filling up whatever emptiness he feels, that shouldn’t even be there. He’s Younghyun; he’s well sought for, he’s successful, he’s famous in the music industry, and- well, he probably needs some fresh air.

As he inhales the early winter air, the cold seeps into his bones bit by bit, the sensation stronger than whatever he’s feeling inside. He feels comforted by it.

Then he sees a phone booth, not too far away from where he’s standing.

His mind isn’t at its best right now. His friends inside would probably tell him to _stop, no, don’t go there, come back_ , but his feet is already moving on its own.

He closes the phone booth door behind him, and it shelters him from the wind. He doesn’t know how his mind is blank and full at the same time; thoughts running a mile a minute, but also his mind in a constant haze, like he’s driving in a middle of the storm, as he tries to make sense of what is actually going on in his head.

He’s staring down the public phone. His body moves on instinct, his fingers looking around his pockets for loose change, inserting it into the slot and dialling a number he knows by heart.

He shouldn’t be doing this, his friends inside would probably tell him to _stop, no, don’t go there, come back,_ but he punches in the last digit anyway.

As he hears the rings, one, by one, his mind comes up with memories he doesn’t, shouldn’t remember.

Of days being on stage, and looking behind him to see a beautiful boy, drumming to his heart’s content, eyes twinkling, smile wide. The lights on stage are shining bright on him, and Younghyun feels like he can watch him in his element forever. Sometimes, the beautiful boy in his memories looks back at him, with the same fond look on his face.

Of days in the practice room, everyone exhausted but satisfied. Younghyun telling the other to not practice too hard, not too late into the night, not to injure himself. He reminds that boy time and time again, but when it happens, Younghyun doesn’t have it in him to be angry. Instead, all he does is grab the other’s hands, and bandages them carefully, the other’s ears turning red at the gentle gesture, a soft _‘Thank you’_ always whispered in the end.

Of days in the dorm, when they finally have some down time. Sometimes they all do their own thing, playing games on their computers or sleeping the day away. Other times they pile up in front of the TV together, watching a movie they’ve seen a thousand times. But it’s warm, and content, and Younghyun’s memories brings up that beautiful boy again, and he has his head in Younghyun’s lap, and Younghyun admires the restraint he has that night, so close to brushing his hand in the other’s hair, to touching the other’s cheek.

The memories flash by, like a montage, and he definitely didn’t ask for his brain to provide it, but the alcohol in his veins is probably bringing down any walls he made.

Memories of them messing around, laughter ringing in the air. Memories of them in airplanes, in tour buses, in the back of the company van. Memories of them in foreign countries, walking side by side, in the back of jazz bars. Memories of hands intertwined, even though it’s only on stage.

But the memories also came with all the chances Younghyun didn’t take. Of all the opportunities Younghyun missed. Of all the words he could’ve said to that beautiful boy. Of all the things they could’ve done together. Of all the feelings left festering in each other’s hearts, that Younghyun kept pushing down, down, down, up until the very last possible minute.

Younghyun pretended not to know, pretended not to see the longing glances the other gave him, pretended not to understand the subtle hints, the eyebrow raises the rest of the members gave each other.

Pretended not to be in love with him.

The demon in his mind always asks Younghyun back, _What were you trying to prove anyway?_

The memories haunt him, follow him wherever he goes, taunting him with the fact of how foolish he was.

And he still is, as he sees traces of that beautiful boy everywhere he goes. When he sees puppies while he’s on a walk, and thinks, _he would’ve liked this_. When he listens to a song on the radio, and thinks, _he would’ve liked this_. When he witnesses a spectacular view on his travels, and thinks, _he would’ve liked this._

But Younghyun has always been a coward.

Younghyun made him wait too long. It shouldn’t have been surprising when the other decided to move on and found himself another person, but Younghyun was still heartbroken anyway. The worst part was he couldn’t mourn, or mope about it, because since when did he have the right to?

It’s been years since they had their last performance as a band, and sometimes Younghyun thinks, maybe even during that time, that beautiful boy had still been waiting for him too.

The ringing in his ear stops with a click, as a voice Younghyun misses with his entire being, that haunts him in the middle of the night, answers, “Hello?”

For once, the thoughts in his head comes to a complete halt.

“…Hello? Do you have the wrong number?”

But Younghyun has always been a coward.

His hand trembles as he lowers the phone, and puts it back in its place.

Younghyun backs away and slides down against the wall of the phone booth, as all the emotions of the past years finally makes its way to the surface. He cries, and cries, and cries, and he doesn’t know if he’s crying for himself, or for what could have been, or for that beautiful boy.

He hears the door of the phone booth creak open.

“Younghyun, what did you do?” he hears someone speaking to him.

Younghyun continues weeping into his hand, not even attempting to answer.

The person sighs, and helps Younghyun up, slinging one of Younghyun’s arm over his shoulder.

“Come on now, let’s get you home.”

The cold air hits his face, and makes the tears running down his cheeks even more painful than it should be.

The year is 2030, and Younghyun thinks he’ll never not think about Dowoon.

**Author's Note:**

> [the song](https://youtu.be/KsZ6tROaVOQ) that inspired this fic <3
> 
> just a short blurb this time around, as a break in between the long fic im currently writing. come yell at me in the comments below, or on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/jajudeeds)


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